


The Power Company

by Shannon_Kind



Series: The Power Company [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Collars, Comeplay, Consensual Kink, Degradation, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Gabe is a brat, Humiliation, Impact Play, Light Bondage, M/M, Master/Pet, Praise Kink, Rape Fantasy, Safeword Use, Service Submission, Slut Shaming, Watersports, gentle!Dom Dean, sensory play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shannon_Kind/pseuds/Shannon_Kind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and his good friend Dean own a company where they sell their services as dominants for hire. It works great, the money is good. And it's not like Castiel is looking for anything else.</p><p>Except, once in a while, he imagines what it would be like if his hot coworker and he weren't both dominants...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friday

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Writing Prompt Wednesday
> 
> Week 23
> 
> Taboo/Forbidden Love
> 
> “The hardest part of being a professional Dom for hire isn't the weird kinks or the long nights or the bratty subs. It's getting people to understand that doing this isn't stopping me from finding someone of my own - it's that I don't want someone of my own. Why does everyone have to be in desperate search for the one? What I've got is absolutely perfect. These subs need me, and pay me well, and we have fun playing together. And you and I run a really solid business,musing our complementary strengths as doms to cater to all comers. But every once in a while, when I'm alone and hot and horny, I think about you and I wonder...what would it be like to dominate you? What would it be like for you to dominate me? What would it be like for us to compete for dominance? And I never get off faster or more enthusiastically than when I think about it. Do you ever wonder the same?
> 
> This work is unbeta'd.
> 
> Right now, I'm planning on posting once a week, although I may post more if the muse lets me get through this well.

  
[ ](http://imgur.com/4NunwJw)  


Castiel tightened the rope around Alfie’s right wrist, using two fingers he checked the tension, careful to avoid nerve damage. He tugged at the ropes gently, and smiled at the other man’s quiet moan. Alfie’s chest was flush against the table, his arms drawn far apart and tied to the legs on the other side of the oak table. His ankles were tied to the closer legs, and Castiel checked the slack there too, before proceeding. A black leather paddle lay on the other man's back, teetering with every tiny shudder from the man’s body. “Color, Alfie?”

“Green, sir.”

“Good.” Castiel moved in front of Alfie. He watched the younger man strain his neck as he tried to look up at him. It was hard not to smirk, seeing him so needy and trusting like that, but he kept his features under control. “Do you know why I’m upset today, boy?”

The other man gulped. He tried to nod but his chin hit the table. Castiel felt his eyebrow arch in displeasure while he waited for the man to answer. “I broke a rule.” Castiel waited for the rest of the admission. 

When none was forthcoming, he cupped his hand and smacked Alfie’s face with a satisfying noise, but little real pressure. “You know better than this, Alfie. What rule did you break?” Castiel had no idea what rule, arbitrary or otherwise, Alfie had actually broken. There was no long term contract, only for individual sessions. Castiel picked up the paddle from where it rested, the threat imminent in his ice blue eyes.

Alfie closed his eyes, and tears started to leak from them. Castiel paused for a moment, surprised and concerned. It wasn’t at all unusual for a sub to cry during a scene, but it rarely happened this early, unless something had gone wrong. Still, he’d played with Alfie several times before, and trusted him to safeword if something was amiss. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m so sorry. I called in sick to work, but really I was just going out to have fun with some college buddies. They needed me, sir, and I failed them.” 

Castiel nodded slowly, his free hand running up and down the other man’s side for comfort. He knew Alfie was heir to a large fast food franchise, and was being groomed to be top brass one day. But he also knew he was fresh out of college, and prone to make mistakes. “And what is the punishment for ignoring responsibilities, boy?”

Alfie rested his head on the table. “Twenty five, sir.” Castiel grabbed his short hair and dragged his head back up to look at him, displeasure written clearly across his face. Certainly for some subs, twenty five blows with that paddle would be ample punishment. And Alfie was no masochist. But he needed to feel absolved, and twenty five would not do it. “Thirty five, sir.” Castiel released the other man’s head with a slight downward motion. Not enough to injure Alfie’s head against the table, but enough to show his dominance. 

The end of the paddle dragged over Alfie’s ribs as Castiel moved behind him. “Thirty five for breaking your rules,” he said “and a further five for trying to get out of ten strikes.” Alfie groaned, and Castiel squeezed his ass. “I can always make it more.” The rapid shake of the other man’s head brought a smirk to Castiel’s lips. “Count.”

This part was like a dance, once that Castiel had mastered years ago. That didn’t make it any less exciting. Like any dance, it was about leading his partner. Each paddle blow made Alfie jump, count, and relax. Castiel moved smoothly, this punishment was not about getting off, and it wasn't about anticipation. This was purely psychological. And in some ways that was good.

Castiel generally prefered his sexual partners to be male, and while Alfie wasn’t exactly his type, he might have been if Castiel were ten years younger. There were times he would scene with the man and struggle to keep himself from coming. Castiel was not an escort, even if he was paid for erotic services. Domination, to be exact. Many people failed to make that distinction, and it never ceased to frustrate him. 

But today was about catharsis. Blow after graceful blow, Castiel listened to the man count, and watched his body shake and relax under his care. “Good boy,” he whispered gently as the last number left Alfie’s lips. He rubbed his hands up and down the other man’s ribs as Alfie came down from his high, murmuring thank you after thank you.

Castiel set the paddle on the table next to Alfie and ran both hands down the man’s left leg on the way to the ropes, which he carefully untied. He rubbed over the light marks with his hand, and watched as Alfie lifted his foot and rolled his ankle before trailing his hands back up that leg and down the other for the same treatment. Castiel smiled at his handiwork and moved to the front, always skin to skin contact with tonight’s submissive. “Are you ready to get the rest of these ropes off you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Castiel continued to maintain careful touch, and higher than normal eye contact while he undid the ropes at Alfie’s wrists. He watched, ready to catch him, as the other man stood. He led him to the bedroom and laid him out on the bed face down, where he began to apply a healing salve to Alfie’s bruised backside. It would have been better to do the scene in the bedroom, so they wouldn’t have to move, but Alfie’s bed didn’t have any appropriate tie down points. And besides, the bed was low, and Alfie wasn’t quite sure he was ready for long distance implements yet. Cas noticed they were nearing the end of the salve and told Alfie so. “I have another, if you’d like it ready for our next play session,” he said.

Alfie nodded. “Just add it to the bill,” he whispered, already fighting sleep. Castiel sat him up and made him drink from the water bottle on the nightstand. He handed him the typewritten aftercare sheet for impact play, which included things like maintaining hydration, when to use the ointment, and who to call if the submissive suspected they were leaving the endorphin high too fast, leading to a drop. 

When Alfie pulled himself to his feet and walked Castiel to the door, he looked much better than he had when the dominant first arrived. He was tired, but he was smiling. “I look forward to seeing you again soon,” he said. “Hopefully for fun next time.”

Castiel chuckled darkly. “That would be great. Hopefully you can keep out of trouble, boy.” Alfie smirked at the term, one that was rarely used outside of play. He rolled his eyes and shut the door behind Castiel.

⚣⚤⚣

When Castiel made it back to the office, he was exhausted. And it was only 11 PM. Usually he worked until closer to 1 AM on Friday nights, but the scene with Alfie was unusually short. He hadn’t anticipated that, so he’d never scheduled a second appointment. Oh well.

He unlocked the office door, a simple reinforced wooden door with a frosted glass window that read TPC, ltd. There were about a dozen office spaces on this floor alone, and none of them knew that Castiel, and his friend Dean Winchester, were professional sexual dominants. 

Dean was sitting at their shared desk, staring intently at the company laptop. Probably playing solitaire. “Hey Cas,” he said, not looking up.

“Hello, Dean. No scenes tonight?” Castiel set his black duffel bag down on the edge of the desk, and walked through the second door off of the main office. He left it open so he could hear Dean’s reply. This room was small, more a glorified closet, and it was cramped with shelving units. Each neatly labeled in his own handwriting. Different brands of lubrication, dildos, crops, floggers. Various lengths of rope. It had been Dean’s idea to order restraints and implements in bulk, and offer them to the clients at a discount. Sam, Dean’s brother, and Castiel’s friend from college, had suggested only using toys purchased through them. It would ensure that everyone had new, safe toys to use. Castiel couldn’t argue.

“No, I didn’t schedule any scenes tonight. I had a Skype intake interview with this guy Ash.” Castiel raised an eyebrow as he set about refilling his bag from the inventory. He had brought just a few supplies along for Alfie, since he was a repeat customer and already had much of what they used together. And Castiel didn’t even get to start on the lube he’d stashed. But he replaced the salve he’d used on Alfie’s ass. He also added some more alcohol wipes, bleach solution, and latex gloves. They didn’t charge clients for those items. It just made sense that everything be clean and sanitized before using. “Yeah, so this guy is looking for some kind of crazy roleplay.” Cas scoffed. “Yeah, I know, we specialize in crazy. But he kept talking about some kind of wolf roleplay.”

“Pet play is very common, Dean,” chastised Castiel.

“Yeah, sure. But this was like...pheromones and heats and alpha/omega dynamics. I don’t know, it hardly made sense to me. He gave me some stuff to read, but it’s all like...written by amateurs.”

Castiel sighed as he closed his bag up. “So what did you tell him?”

“Well, I haven’t done primal play before, but I’m nothing if not willing to try it. So I said sure. I’d even give him a discounted rate, since it's new to me.”

Castiel nodded, catching a glance of the computer screen. Dean was playing Angry Birds. Not solitaire. “I think we’re going to need more of the latex free gloves, soon. And maybe you could add-”

The ring of the telephone cut Castiel off. Dean grabbed it. “Thank you for calling The Power Company,” he said, in a voice several notes deeper than the one he had been using in his conversation with Cas. “Tell me your darkest fantasy, I’ll help you bring it to light.” Castiel’s eyes went wide. Since when did they answer the phone like that? He tried to grab it away from Dean but Dean was ready for him and turned away. Cas could hear someone yelling through the tinny speaker. It took a moment to realize it was Sam, yelling about never calling again. Cas relaxed and went back to do a quick inventory check. Since he didn’t have another client, he might as well get some work done. He heard snippets of conversation floating in from the other room.

They were actually doing really well. He had assumed they would get a lot of repeat customers and wouldn’t need to reorder many supplies, so when Dean and Sam suggested it, Castiel wasn’t sure how feasible the side business would be. But actually, it had done really well. Most of the repeat customers were happy to expand their collections, especially at the steep discounts The Power Company offered. And new clients were always in need of the basics. So it worked. 

When he finished jotting down what needed to be replenished for this month’s order, he yawned and rubbed his eyes. Maybe his scene with Alfie was just too tame that night. He checked the closet, just to make sure he had everything he needed for tomorrow’s appointments. The closet was neatly divided into two sections. One for himself and one for Dean. Each had several outfits and costumes that would not be appropriate to wear for everyday, although unless it’s otherwise requested, Castiel usually went to appointments in a suit, and Dean usually favored dark jeans, a black t shirt, and boots. But Daphne preferred a tuxedo, and he needed to check to make sure it didn’t need to be pressed. Luckily, it was still wrinkle-free. “Hey Cas,” Dean called from the other room. “Sam wants to know if you want to meet him for lunch. Says he hasn’t seen you in forever. You going?”

Castiel laughed. “Depends. Were you planning on coming?” he says, coming back into the main room.

Dean’s laugh was a low rumble. “Oh hell no. You guys get up way too early.”

“Tell your brother I’ll text him in the morning, but that sounds wonderful.” Dean relayed the message. 

Another yawn from Castiel had Dean shooing him out the door, still on the phone with Sam. “Go home, and get some sleep man. You’re the one that has to deal with the moose tomorrow. I’ll see you when I see you.”


	2. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is half exposition. I'll try to make it up to you with half porn at the end. This is my first foray into writing smut...while I'd prefer for you to go easy on me, I could also do with some constructive criticism.
> 
> Unbeta'd again.

Castiel woke up early, for a Saturday. He debated getting his grocery shopping done, but decided against it, since he had enough to last the next few days and he'd be off on Monday anyway. Instead, he pulled on a ratty old gray t shirt, a pair of navy blue shorts, and some worn dark gray Nike’s. 

For the next hour, Castiel lost himself in the rhythmic motions of his feet hitting the pavement, the burn in his calves as he ran through the local park. The cool breeze blew against his sweat-speckled skin, cooling him as he jogged on. It was a wonderful feeling.

Up until the moment he arrived back home. Then it was into the shower quick before his lunch with Sam. He wondered vaguely if Jessica would show up as he quickly cleaned and shaved.

⚣⚤⚣

When Castiel arrived at the local diner, Sam was already sitting in a booth near the front. Castiel waved off the young host with an almost paternal smile as he slid in across from his friend. Sam’s face broke into a smile. “Look at you, on time,” he teased.

Castiel barely resisted rolling his eyes. “Sam Winchester, whatever else I might be, I am always on time.” 

Sam’s returning smile was easy. “I took the liberty and ordered your lunch.”

Castiel scoffed. “I am perfectly capable of ordering my own lunch, Sam.”

The taller man shrugged, but didn’t look apologetic in the least. “Yeah, I know. You’re a big manly dominant.” Castiel opened his mouth to speak at that, but Sam kept going. “But I also know that you eat here every Saturday; alone, if Dean or I don’t stop by. And you always order the bacon cheeseburger, with American cheese, not cheddar, a side salad instead of french fries, and a water. If I hadn’t ordered it, they probably would have brought it out with my lunch anyway.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed, but there was humor in them. “Maybe I wanted the curly fries today,” he threatened, letting his voice slip into cool, and dark, and oh so disappointed in Sam’s behavior. 

Sam had the gall to actually laugh.”You forget I grew up with Dean pulling that crap on me all the time, Cas. It didn’t work on me in college, it’s not going to work now.”

Castiel stopped posturing and smiled. He really did enjoy Sam’s company. “How are Jess and Mary?” he asked when the food came out. Castiel’s burger and Sam’s Tex Mex Taco salad, which was actually better than it sounded.

“They’re both good,” Sam said, scooping some ground beef onto his fork. “It’d be nice if Mary slept more than three hours at a time, but they’re both good.”

“She’ll be grown before you know it,” said Castiel after swallowing his first bite. He waited for this burger, one of his few true indulgences all week, he hadn’t been about to wait any longer. Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “So what will you tell her then? Daddy works hard all week making sure two doms for hire stay on this side of the law?”

Loud choking noises were heard from across the table for the next several seconds as Sam tries to get himself under control. “Sure,” he gasped out. “Just as soon as I tell her that Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas get paid to have sex with people who like to be told what to do.”

Castiel leveled his most stern face at his friend. “I am not a prostitute, nor is your brother, Sam. While the service we provide is erotic in nature, neither of us provides our clients with the physical stimulation they need to orgasm. If they choose not to be denied orgasm during a scene, they come by their own hand.” He turned introspective for a moment. “Or impact,” he adds. “Or sometimes by my voice, but that doesn’t make me a prostitute either.”

Sam watched Castiel’s monologue with a sad smile on his face. “Sorry. I know you take what you do seriously. And it’s not like I care if you have sex with all of them, as long as you stay safe. You’ve been my best friend for years.” Castiel sighed and smiled indulgently at his friend, letting Sam know he was forgiven before reaching for his water. “But Cas, are you sure this is what you want to be doing.” Castiel put his glass down slowly, anticipating what was going to come. It wouldn’t be the first time someone, well meaning, had tried to talk him out of his job. 

“Think about it. You could train other dominants to be just as careful as you are. Expand the business. Have couples trainings. I’ve run the numbers and looked into the legal side of things. It would be so easy. You’d make more money, and then…” Sam trailed off, uncomfortable.

“And then what?” asked Castiel, his voice resigned.

“Look for someone of your own, Cas. I’ve seen you look at me and Jess. At Mary. You could have that. Guy, girl, whatever. You could even find someone submissive, just for you. You wouldn’t have to give up the job you love, just add to it. Your life would be so much more.”

A sigh escaped Castiel’s lips, hunger leaving him. Even for the burger he’d waited for all week. “Sam, I truly, truly love my job. These submissives, they need me. Think about how much you love taking care of your daughter. The things you do for her, only you can do those things. It makes you feel proud, strong, right?”

“Well, yeah. But Cas, there’s nothing I do that Jess couldn’t do sometimes. And anyway, a child isn’t a submissive. And she’s ours. Don’t you want someone that’s just yours?”

Castiel smiles, small and serene. “The clients that come to me entrust themselves to me. For that moment, they are mine and I am theirs. It’s not so different, really. It’s a type of love. And until they find someone else to take my place, they need me. And when they are ready to spread their wings and move on, I know, like you’ll know with Mary, that I’ve prepared them to be safe and fulfilled in the world they’re about to enter.”

Sam nodded and took another bite of his salad. He had nothing to say to that.

Castiel finished his lunch, even though he still wasn’t particularly hungry. His sessions with Daphne tended to run long, and he’d need the energy.

⚣⚤⚣

Being fastidiously punctual, Castiel dropped by the office almost an hour before he had to leave to make it to his appointment with Daphne. He heard Dean’s voice as he opened the door and stopped himself from calling a greeting just in time. “What a good kitty you are.”

Castiel gave a small wave towards Dean, who was Skyping with his client Lisa. It was not a service they usually offered, and Dean had been more than a little concerned when Lisa had asked for a session over Skype. But she was an excellent regular client, and she was going to be away on business for a while. He had reluctantly agreed. From the smile on his face, Castiel assumed he was enjoying himself. He slipped into the second office and locked the door behind him so that he’d have somewhere private to change into his tuxedo.

Snippets of one-sided conversation filtered through the thin walls as he changed. “That’s it, Princess... Show me how good you are...” Dean’s voice was pitched lower than Castiel usually heard it, and the timbre twisted pleasantly through Castiel’s body. It was no secret he preferred men to women, and a deep sexy voice went a long way towards that. 

Checking himself in the narrow mirror between the one of the shelves and the doorframe, and satisfied that he was dressed perfectly, Castiel opened the door. “Lick it.” Castiel’s eyes raked over Dean’s face. His hair was tight against his head and dark, as if he’d been sweating. Castiel knew he kept a spray bottle of water nearby to help with the illusion. He did the same himself before meeting with a client liked the idea of a dom who worked with his hands. But still, it was a good look on his friend. One he couldn’t remember having seen recently. “Ah-ah,” Dean scolded gently. “Slow, little licks, kitten. Let me see.” Castiel’s breath caught in his chest as Dean looked up from the computer and met his eyes. Or maybe it was Castiel’s gasp that made him look up. Castiel certainly couldn’t tell which. Dean’s hand was reaching out and grabbing for a piece of paper. He scribbled on it as he spoke into the camera. “Get it nice and wet, just for me...Good girl.” 

He held up the paper for Cas to see. ‘I left my phone in my right jacket pocket. I need it.’ Castiel went up to the leather jacket Dean had left on the other side of the table and rummaged around for the phone. He pulled it out and tried to hand it to Dean, but Dean was writing on the pad again. ‘Open the Vibease Chat app and get Lisa B’s account.’ “That’s right, slide it in,” he told the woman on the other side of the computer screen. “Look at you, kitten.”

It was an easy enough fix. Castiel had used the application himself a few times, although never from this distance. He handed the phone to Dean who accepted it with a smile. “So good. So good for me.”

Castiel knew he was talking to Lisa. He knew it. But his body didn’t. The praise flashed over his skin like an electric current, and he could feel himself begin to grow hard in his dress pants. He nodded awkwardly at his friend. “Appointment,” he mouthed apologetically, half waving, half running from the office.

⚣⚤⚣

Castiel stood on the front porch of Daphne Allen’s suburban ranch home at precisely four o’clock and knocked. It was a little early for his tuxedo, but she was the client. The bouquet box was a nice touch. That had been Sam’s idea several months ago. It’s difficult to explain carrying around a duffel bag full of equipment while wearing a tuxedo. Even a briefcase would catch some people’s eyes, and it hardly had room for some of what he might need. But a box that might hold a large bouquet of flowers for your date? Well, that just made people smile conspiratorially. And sometimes wish they were getting the same treatment. If only they knew...

Daphne didn’t answer the door for a moment. He could always ring the doorbell if she didn’t come, but Daphne always answered for him.

She stood in front of him in a long, bright purple evening gown with a deep v neck and a long slit up one side. “Good afternoon, Castiel,” she said, blushing just a little bit. She stood back and gestured into her home. “You’re looking very handsome today.”

“And you look lovely,” he said with a fond smile. The blush grew at hearing the familiar words. He lifted the box and crossed the threshold into her well-looked-after home. He headed through the living room and into the kitchen with the ease of familiarity, where he set the box on the kitchen table. He took a seat in one of the high backed wood chairs as if this were his own home and gestured for her to do the same. “How are you today, Daphne?”

“I’m good. Well,” she amended. “And you, sir?”

Castiel tilted his head to one side, a look of disappointment crossing his blue eyes. “We haven’t begun yet, Daphne. Right now, I’m just Castiel. And you are just Daphne.” She lowered her gray eyes to the table, wavy auburn hair hiding her face. “But I am well, thank you for asking.” She smiled up at him, and it was a lovely smile. “I brought the items you requested,” he told her, indicating the box, “plus the things I prefer to have with me. Did you wish to speak to me before we begin?” She shook her head with a smile. “Words, Daphne,” he reminded her. 

“No.”

“Very well. What is your safeword?”

“Red, Castiel.”

“Very good, Daphne.” He enjoyed watching her relax to the sound of his voice praising her. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s start. Stand up for me.” Daphne rose from her chair. Although sometimes awkward and easily flustered until she found her headspace, she was easily Castiel’s most graceful submissive. Her chin was tilted just slightly downwards, and she kept her eyes averted. “Let me see that lovely dress,” he commanded, his voice soft and firm. She walked over to him, and he allowed his eyes to drink her in. “I’m going to touch you now. Color?”

“Green, sir,” she breathed, her voice already difficult to find in her anticipation. He allowed himself to his hands over her dress, humming quietly in appreciation. “Very nice, girl. Thank you for pleasing me with this outfit.” She sighed happily as she leaned into his touch. “Enough,” he said, almost as much to himself as to her. “Bring me your pillow.”

Daphne disappeared out of the kitchen and Castiel took the moment to open the bouquet box on the table. Inside he had his usual items, some cleaning supplies, nitrile gloves, salves and ointments. He also had a new set of clover-style nipple clamps that she had decided to try after their last session. Another similar box was on the table. He opened it, and after looking through the contents for a moment, chose a black satin blindfold. There was a purple one a the office that would have looked perfect with her dress. He considered trying to sell it to her, but upselling was never his strong suit, and besides, the black one would work just as well.

Daphne returned a moment later carrying a plush cream colored suede pillow, which she handed to him. He took it and placed it on the floor next to his chair. “Thank you, Daphne. I would like a glass of water, three ice cubes. In a second glass, please bring me six ice cubes.” Without a word, she went to fetch what he had asked. He watched her take deep, calm breaths as she relaxed into her role. He admired the difference in her body language. She was mousy and timid by nature. But when she submitted to him, there was rarely a movement she made without purpose. That it was his purpose only made it that much sweeter. When she returned she held the glasses out towards him, and he waited until the skirt of her dress stilled around her ankles before moving. “You may place them on the table,” he said, tapping it gently. She complied, as he knew she would. “Good girl.” Her muscles grew taut as she stood back up, reacting to the praise. “Go choose a soft towel. When you’ve found it, fold it neatly and put it on the table behind the glasses. Then you may use your pillow.”

Castiel waited patiently as she left the room. He supposed he could have asked her to prepare the towel before his arrival. He didn’t want to pull out his phone at the moment, and there was little enough to do while he waited for her. Still, it pleased her to serve him, and he enjoyed giving her direction. Daphne returned only a few minutes later and set the towel on the table where Castiel had indicated. She gracefully sank to her knees on the pillow next to Castiel. He reached down and gently grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. She really did have lovely eyes. A clear icy gray that was almost not even a color at all. A rain cloud for a sunshower. “Lovely,” he told her again. She smiled and tried to drop her head, but his hand there wouldn’t allow her to. “Tell me you’re lovely.”

She blushed. “I’m lovely,” she said quietly. Her voice wasn’t very steady, but she didn’t try to deflect, and that was an improvement. He took his hand from her chin and reached for his glass of water. She immediately ducked her head back to the floor and he smirked at the effect he was having already. He’d only been here for fifteen minutes.

“Unzip your dress, only to your waist,” he told her. “Do you need assistance?”

“No sir,” she said, reaching her slender arms around to her back and pulling the zipper down inch by inch. Castiel couldn’t see the zipper itself from this angle, but he could see the way the bodice of the dress loosened and gaped, offering the barest hints of skin and breast without actually revealing anything. 

“Remove your arms from the straps and let it fall. Do not stand.” He watched as first one, then the other sleeve was pushed away from her torso gently, sensually. He let his breathing deepen to show his appreciation. It wasn’t arousal. Not quite. But it still meant something strong to Castiel. He was not unaffected by her body, but it was her matter of fact submission that sometimes took his breath away.

He took another slow sip from his ice water. “Hold it,” he commanded. She took the water and held it in her right hand, away from her body at shoulder height. Her left hand she left on her left knee. “This one, too,” he said, handing her the second cup. When she had them both in position, he removed an ice cube from the second cup. He traced a trail over her body, starting on one side of her neck and to the other, down her sternum. He avoided her breasts as he traced her ribs and watched her mouth open in pleasure and anticipation. Sessions with Daphne often lasted several hours, and he had no intention of rushing things. He smoothed the ice over the top of her breasts, one, then the other, but never let it near her nipples. 

Castiel enjoyed watching her face. The look of concentration as she held the two glasses. They weren’t heavy yet, but by the time he was through here they would feel like lead weights. “Open,” he said. She opened her mouth wide. He slid the ice cube about halfway inside. “Close.” Her lips gently clamped around the ice. “Leave it,” he said calmly. “Don’t suck.” She almost whimpered at the painful cold, stuck in one spot until he chose to remove it. He arched his eyebrows and she returned her gaze to the floor. He took the water from her hand and gently sipped as the heat from her body melted the ice. Drip. Drip. Drip. Cold water landed on her sternum and her body jumped each time. He briefly considered having her pour him extra glasses of water next time, and telling her to hold them without spilling any as the ice dripped over her body. But he soon dismissed the thought. Daphne took pleasure in service. Not punishment. 

He returned the glass to her waiting hand and took the ice between two fingers. “Give it,” he said, and her lips released the ice into his hand. He held it above her nipple and let the melting water drip down onto her. The random timing of the melt made the anticipation that much more difficult to bear, for him as well. It was difficult to let nature control even this much, but he loved the look in her eye when she threw her head back after an unexpected drop. 

He continued to tease her with the ice while slowly drinking his water until the ice had melted and her arms were starting to shake minutely from the effort of being held up for so long. “You’re doing so well,” he praised. “Lovely. Hands behind your back, cross your wrists.” Daphne relaxed her arms with a pleased sigh. He raised the clover clamps into view. “I’m going to try these on you now,” he said. “Color, Daphne.”

“Green, sir. Still.” Castiel squeezed a clamp onto each nipple, smiling at her gasps of pleasure-pain. Each clamp had a small ring where a chain or weight could be attached, but he had suggested trying them the first time without. The clover clamps were more intense than the clothespin style she had used previously. 

Daphne closed her eyes, and he watched her fight the instinct to move. When she calmed, he raised her head to look at him again. “Lovely,” he promised her. “Say it.”

“I’m lovely,” she repeated, stronger than her earlier attempt. 

“Good girl. Get me a glass of your excellent iced tea, hand it to me, then kneel. I would like a footstool for now.” He watched her work with the nipple clamps holding tight, more and more sure she would be able to handle it.

⚣⚤⚣

It was after eleven when Castiel arrived back at the office to change back into his regular clothes. Daphne lived nearly an hour from the city, and he had eaten the delicious meal she had cooked for him. For a moment on the drive back he wished he could have just kept the tuxedo, gone home and crashed after the long day. Daphne had handled her new clamps well, although he had thought for a moment she was going to safeword when he tugged on one. Still, she seemed to enjoy them.

Castiel didn’t bother closing the door to the second room since Dean was long gone and probably wouldn’t be back before tomorrow. He removed the jacket and straightened it on the hanger, smoothing out the wrinkles with his hands. He changed his pants, dress pants were always vaguely uncomfortable, until he was back in the jeans he had worn to lunch with Sam. He hung them as well. He would have to iron them. But tomorrow. He could always come back before his first appointment tomorrow to iron them. It was already very late.

He took off his dress shirt and undershirt and hung both of those as well. He grabbed his Henley and was about to pull it over his head when his wandering eyes landed on the desk in the other room. Random snatches of memory filled his mind. Daphne on her knees, gray eyes looking up at him. Dean’s rich baritone telling Lisa to lick the remote vibrator and slide it inside herself. Suddenly, the eyes in his memory were his own rich blue. He was on his knees, and Dean was looking down at him from their little shared desk in the office. Dean’s hand traced up the side of his face, and he rolled his head into the touch. He could almost hear the other man “Stay still, Cas.” His eyes closed tight as he thought of the feeling of someone else’s hand running through his hair, grazing over his Adam’s apple. “So still for me. So good.” Someone whimpered, and Castiel didn’t know if it was the him submitting to Dean or the one standing, bare chested in the office after work. He knelt on the carpet in nothing but his jeans as hands teased him, roaming over his ribs, his abs, but never his nipples. “Good boy,” whispered a gruff, affected voice.

Something finally brushed his nipples and he moaned out his relief. His cock spurted wet in his jeans.

Castiel opened his eyes. He was kneeling on the floor of his office. His shirt was balled up in his hand, held up against the stubble on his cheek. An escaped sleeve brushed up lightly against his nipple. His pants were wet. That was real. 

Shit. What the hell was that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the smut isn't particularly explicit. I'm working my way up. Hopefully you still found the scenes kind of hot. It's weird trying to write from a dominant point of view. Also, apparently I am terrible at writing Sam. That's why this part is a few hours late. The first scene was a bear to write. But I think Sam and Cas's friendship is so amazing and underrated, I just couldn't replace Sam in this, even if another character could have just as easily been the one to give us all the exposition.


	3. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel struggles to start work in the morning remembering what happened the previous night. Castiel and Dean get snarky, which becomes a good natured scuffle; it isn't the physical activity that has Cas’ heart rate up. He leaves to help Meg fulfill her rape fantasy. When he gets home, Cas does some fantasizing of his own.
> 
>  **Warning:** Watch for shifting tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Perfackles](http://perfackles.tumblr.com/) and [Annacaffeina](http://annacaffeina.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for their excellent help when I was trying to figure out what Dean and Cas were fighting about. I modified Perfackles suggestion about Dean putting a dent in Baby, so that's all thanks to her. Also, I need to thank their adorable, domestic Destiel argument suggestions for filling my mind with happy thoughts and keeping me quasi sane as the scene between Castiel and Meg (and a planned scene between Cas and Hannah that I had to cut because it was so rough) kept trying to pull our Angel into darker and darker places. 
> 
> **_Warning:_** This chapter mainly deals with Castiel’s rebellion against the idea of submitting. The scene with Meg reflects that theme. It may, therefore, be uncomfortable for some readers. The intent is that the scene between Cas and Meg is 100% consensual and thoroughly discussed by both partners before we join them in their play. If you still feel uncomfortable, I've added a divider line before and after that scene, which runs approximately half of the chapter. It can be avoided without compromising the plot.

Castiel hesitated as he stood outside his office door, bright and early on Sunday morning. He'd cleaned that spot on the carpet, but he still had to walk there. Dean still had to walk there. What if Dean was there?

No. He was being ridiculous. Castiel and Dean had been friends for years now, since Sam and Cas were in college together. They had shared moments of awkwardness, this would hardly be anything. Dean didn't even know about it. And he never would know, since Castiel had done such a good job of covering his tracks last night. Besides, it was nine o'clock on a Sunday morning, and Dean rarely rose before ten if he could help it.

Determined, Castiel opened the door. All he needed to do was prove to himself that nothing was different. He closed the door behind him and sent off a text message: “You still up for some company today?”

Castiel startled when the door to the second office opened and Dean stepped out. “Hey, Cas,” he said with a smile, clutching a small delivery box. “Look what came?” Castiel’s eyes swept the floor. Dean was practically standing right on top of where he had come almost untouched the night before. He couldn’t see a spot, but what if there was one there still? What if Dean had come in and cleaned it up? What if he knew what it was? Castiel’s eyes shot up to the box Dean was carrying as Dean pulled out the packaging for a cock cage, complete with an anal hook. Shit. Dean must have known what he did. Was he going to try to lock Castiel away so he couldn’t jerk off anymore? “Came to pick this up before I run out to see Benny and Andrea. I hate these early mornings, but what can you do?”

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. “I just can’t believe you woke up this early in the morning for them.”

Dean grimaced. “Yeah well. They’re good customers. But could they live further away? It’s nice they have a chunk of land if they’re feeling like playing outside, but the gas is ridiculous.”

Castiel smirked. “You could always get a newer car. That Impala you drive is a money pit.” Just like he’d hoped, Dean scowled. This was an old fight, and getting back into it somehow made Cas feel like they were on even footing again. At least for a little while. “It goes through gas like crazy. Completely inefficient. And how many times have you-” Castiel’s words were cut off when Dean lunged at him from across the room. 

“At least my Baby isn’t a freaking pimpmobile,” Dean called as Castiel dodged to the side.

“No, but you’ve had to rebuild it enough times. Is any of it even original anymore?” 

Dean laughed as he caught hold of Castiel’s wrist. “My car was rebuilt with love and sweat and tears. Your car is held together with duct tape and hope.” 

Castiel twisted away and barreled into the taller man, knocking them both to the floor. “Don’t underestimate duct tape and hope,” he forced out through the exertion.

Things pretty much devolved from there. Laughter gasped from the writhing pile of bodies on the floor. Sometimes one or the other was able to get a derisive word out between the kicking and grabbing and pulling. Castiel felt Dean’s weight shift and rolled them one last time, landing firmly on top, pinning the other man to the ground. “Say ‘uncle,’ Dean.” Castiel was panting heavily. He could feel his heartbeat in his chest. Dean was sprawled out underneath him, all Cas had to do was slide his hips back a few inches and he’d be sitting on Dean’s cock. Would it be as big as he imagined it? Dean’s chest rose and fell with exertion, visible sweat breaking out along his scalp.

“Uncle,” Dean groused. Cas continued to stare down at Dean, unmoving. Dean licked his lips. Castiel looked down into green eyes for a long moment. “Damnit Cas, Uncle!” Dean pushed at Castiel until the other man climbed off. “Now I’m all wrinkled,” he complained, standing up and trying to stretch the wrinkles out of his t shirt. “Benny didn’t pay to be ‘forced’ into a dress and cuckolded by some punk off the street.”

Castiel took a moment to calm down. He was leaning against the desk facing the wall; panting heavily, but it wasn’t just the exertion. He took a deep breath. He could do this. “Call Andrea,” he said. “Maybe 'some punk off the street' would be a great role play.”

“I guess,” Dean said. Castiel didn’t turn around. “See ya, Cas,” he said doubtfully.

Castiel waited until he heard the door open and close again before looking down at his cock, still half-hard in his pants. He hoped Dean hadn’t felt it when they were wrestling. 

An alert from his phone brought him out of his own thoughts. It was a two minute text reminder. “Absolutely, Clarence.” Time to go to work then. Meg wouldn’t mind waiting a little for him though. Which was good. Because for the life of him he couldn’t remember why he had come into the office first anyway.

⚣⚤⚣

* * *

Castiel stood outside Meg’s apartment, black duffel in hand. Luckily, he had remembered why he had stopped in the office. Meg kept plenty of toys at home, but one of the things she paid Castiel for was surprise and adrenaline. She gave him a budget and a list of hard limits. The rest was up to Castiel.

Castiel unlocked the door with the key Meg had given him a year and a half ago and stepped into the combined foyer/living room. He knew he had a few minutes. Once Meg sent her reply text, she always stayed on the other side of the house. Usually in the bedroom, but a few times he’d found her in the kitchen, and on one memorable occasion, he’d caught her on the toilet. That had been very interesting.

Meg would hardly be charged anything this time. Often he came with complicated new gags, insertable toys and bondage equipment. But today he needed to feel personally powerful, and besides, if he knew Meg, she would like the surprise. He had cut one leg off a pair of pantyhose at about the knee, and pulled that over his head to obscure his face. He stuffed the rest of the ruined pantyhose in his jeans pocket. He had a couple lengths of grocery store clothesline in the bag, so he took them out, but didn’t bother to carry them with him. He could come back out for them later if he needed them. He slid on the black industrial nitrile gloves and let them snap into place. A roll of self adhesive bondage tape over his left wrist, a pair of angled first aid scissors in his hand, and he was ready to go.

He crept out of the living room as quietly as possible. He saw Meg sitting on in her desk chair facing away from the bedroom door. Her brown hair was nodding up and down in time with music he couldn’t hear from her headphones. He grabbed her from behind with his left arm, his right arm pressing the blunt edge of the safety scissors against her neck. “Don’t move,” he snarled. 

Meg’s hands came up to grab at the hand at her neck. She pulled, twisted, and tried to stand up all at the same time, sending the back of the chair into Castiel’s thigh. He lost his grip and she turned to face him. Her eyes went wide in surprise when she saw him, face covered in nylon. She slowly backed away, but Castiel was quicker. He pushed the chair aside and quickly strode across the room, pinning her up against the wall. She smiled at him, all sex and conniving. Her hands pushed against him. She was enjoying the fight. He brought one hand to her throat and leaned close “I’m going to use you just the way you like, slut,” he told her. The first time he called a woman that, he almost decided to call off the scene. Now he was okay with it, as long as he knew his partner enjoyed it. 

Meg whimpered, almost needy, but recovered herself. She tried to bring her leg up to knee him in the balls, but he was pressed too close and she had no room to maneuver. He watched her eyes narrow angrily. Castiel took half a step back and Meg took the opening and broke free. Castiel gave her just a second’s head start before slamming her back into the wall, face first this time. She turned her head just in time to avoid getting her nose smashed up against the storm-cloud gray walls. He held her body there, leaning his weight on her while he smoothed a hand possessively up and down her body, hiking her short green skirt up with his gloved hand. “You’re going to be so good for me.”

Castiel felt her shoulders shift as she tried to find a way out of her predicament. For a half a second, he wondered if Meg would enjoy predicament bondage. Standing on her tiptoes with the rope between her crotch tied to the ceiling while he flogged her naked ass. Or nipple clamps pulling her in one direction, while a line tied in her hair pulled in the opposite direction. She’d probably enjoy that very much. He would have to discuss it with her before their next session. But for now, he had a fantasy to take care of.

“Let go of me, you fucking bastard,” she spat out, venom dripping from every word.

“Soon,” Castiel promised. He pulled her wrists together and wrapped them several times in bondage tape. The adhesive only stuck to itself, so it would be easy enough to get off without pulling skin or hair. He used the scissors to cut her wrists free from the roll when he was satisfied. He stepped back again, and Meg turned around.

Even with her hands tied behind her back, she tried to go after him. She spit, kicked, and tried to ram him with her shoulder. Castiel dodged it all easily. “You son of a bitch! Let go of me,” she shouted as he manhandled her to the chair and pushed her into it, slightly awkwardly because her hands were behind her. He put one knee up on top of her lap to hold her there while he pulled the pantyhose out of his pocket. Meg scoffed. “What the hell?” Castiel didn’t dignify that with a response. 

He pulled what was left of the cut leg over her head. Her nose was squished up against the tight fabric. He ran his hands over it. He couldn’t feel the texture through the gloves, but he knew she would feel it. He tied a knot in the ragged end above her head. Meg was still spitting insults at him. “Shhh,” he said. It was gentler than he had spoken to her before, but he let an undercurrent of threat into his tone. “Open your mouth.” Meg clenched her jaw together tighter. Castiel took the uncut leg of the pantyhose and wrapped it around her face at mouth level. “Open,” he insisted. Meg shook her head and resolutely kept her mouth shut. Castiel took his other hand and gripped her nose. He had to hold her nose closed for several seconds while she tried to shake him off, before she opened her mouth to let him in. He pulled the pantyhose into her mouth and wrapped it around her face again before tying it off on itself. The makeshift gag pulled the pantyhose into her mouth, tightening the pressure against her nose. She shook her head again, her whole upper body getting into it as she tried to dislodge the gag. Her half formed insults no less virulent for being muffled.

Castiel pulled her head back by the gag, digging it deeper into her mouth. “I told you to shut your mouth,” he told her. “But maybe this is better. He moved his hand to her throat, and felt her push up into it, subtly cutting off her own air supply. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Are you wet for me?” Castiel reached two fingers up her skirt and under her panties. He pushed his fingers up between her folds and pulled them out, the black gloves shiny with Meg’s juices. “”Look at you, so wet for me.” He took the bondage tape again and wrapped it around her face, covering her eyes. He made sure it was tight enough to stay in place, but not to cause too much pressure. He watched for a minute as Meg’s chest rose and fell with her heavy, aroused breathing.

When Meg had calmed slightly, he suddenly grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her off the chair. He manhandled her onto the bed and pushed her down, face first, before rolling her over and sitting on her waist. “God, look at you,” he said, sneer evident in his voice. He took the scissors and trailed the cold metal along the exposed skin in the v of her shirt. He traced it along her jaw, over top of the makeshift nylon hood, and watched her shiver in anticipation. Castiel rucked up her shirt just a little, sliding his other hand underneath to squeeze her breast. Her back arched up into his hand. He opened and closed the scissors next to her ear. She knew what was coming next. Castiel cut through her shirt, right up the middle. He put the scissors on the nightstand and roughly opened her shirt, exposing her red bra. He pulled the cups of the bra down, exposing her pert nipples. He pinched and twisted. “So fucking responsive. I bet you’re loving this. I bet you’re so wet for me. Should I see how wet you are?” Meg moaned and shook her head no. “Fuck yes. I’m going to see just how fucking wet you are, bitch.”

As Castiel slid down her body, she tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. “Don’t fucking move, or I swear I’ll tie you to the bed.” Meg laid back down. He knew she might try to get up again shortly, but this was a nice change of pace for a little while. He grabbed the scissors and cut away her skirt, jerking it out from underneath her. “Your panties are so wet. I should have waited and gagged you with those.” Meg moaned, her head thrashing from side to side as she tried to stay still, tried to pretend Castiel’s gruff demeanor and rough handling wasn’t turning her on. He slid his fingers back inside of her. “So fucking wet. You really love this, don’t you?” He took his hand out and waited a moment, watching. “God you even taste like a slut,” he said. She mewled pitifully at that. He hadn’t actually tasted her, but she loved the idea. Castiel thrust his hand back between her legs, two black gloved fingers fucking into her pussy hard, then slowing down to gently press down and stretch her out. 

Meg groaned on the bed, her legs hitching up then back down as she tried to get closer and farther from the pleasure at the same time, her words muffled by the gag. Castiel reached for the nightstand drawer. Inside was always at least one dildo. He chose the largest of the three he found, a ribbed purple monstrosity. He teased it along her clit before pulling his fingers out and roughly replacing them with the toy. It hung lewdly from her cunt, shaking every time her hips moved looking for friction. Castiel ignored the movements. He ignored the whimpers and pleas from her lips. He reached for her nipples, roughly pulling and twisting. Her chest moved away from him as she rolled from side to side in half aborted attempts to shake him off again. Each roll just caused her breasts to be stretched further. He could hear her screaming behind the gag.

Castiel continued to grope and fondle one breast and then the other with his left hand while he fucked into her with the dildo. His weight held her to the bed as she squirmed, arching beautifully. When her sounds turned into frequent short mewls he took his hand from her breast and grabbed her throat. Again, she pushed up into it, choking herself. “Fucking whore,” he growled, “taking my big cock. Say you love my cock.” Meg made a few sounds. He took his hand from her throat and gently slapped her across the face. It made a great sound, but the impact didn’t do more than slightly sting either of them. “Say you love my cock!” he ordered. She mumbled again. “Mmm, that’s right. Do you love it enough to come on it?” She nodded. “Yeah? Come on my cock, slut,” he said, alternating slaps between her face and her breasts until she arched off the bed, a long groan leaving her lips. He continued to thrust the dildo into her, more gently, as she relaxed into the bed. Her pants were slower and heavier. She came down slowly, jerking slightly every now and again as she started to become overstimulated. Castiel slowed down as she relaxed until she was completely calm.

⚣⚤⚣

Castiel stood just inside Meg’s doorway, his duffel bag almost empty. They had gone two more rounds. Meg stood in front of him, wrapped in a soft red robe, a bottle of water in her hand. “Thanks, Castiel. That was fun. We’ll have to do it again soon.”

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” he asked. “I wouldn’t mind staying.”

“Don’t worry your sweet little heart, angel,” she told him, smirking. There was something about Meg, Castiel could never quite put his finger on. They were nothing alike, yet he was pretty sure they could be the best of friends. They both had a sense of humor that was just a little off center.

“Fine. Finish your water. Eat the cookies. And drink the orange juice.”

She scoffed. “You got it, dad.”

He rolled his eyes. “Somehow, a daddy kink doesn’t work on you.” She smiled at him. “And if you start to drop, you have a list of people you can call?”

“I’ll be fine, Clarence. I’m sure you got better things to do than baby me.” She kissed him on the cheek, then firmly showed him out the door.

⚣⚤⚣

Castiel got home more tired than he had felt in a month. He grabbed his own bottle of water and chugged it down quickly before heading into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and stripped naked, groaning and rolling his shoulders.

The dom took a minute just letting the hot water run over him in the shower, soothing his sore muscles. Meg had done a number on him fighting, but it wasn’t just that. Rape fantasies really weren’t his favorite. He had to work with a client for a long time before even considering attempting one. Meg was a little different. She fought back, made him feel like he was really having to work for every inch he got.

Dean did rape fantasies even less than Castiel did. He wondered how Dean went about it. Would he sneak into Castiel’s house through a pre-established key, or would he come through a window? Castiel lived in an apartment in the heart of the city. Dean would have to come through the door. Would he be loud and brazen, pulling open drawers as if looking for valuables? Castiel would have to come out and confront him. Dean would be standing there, sweating from exertion, and Castiel would charge him. Dean would fight. Not like Meg with aborted movements and futile pushes.

No, Dean would wrestle Cas to the ground, his calloused hands hot against Castiel’s bare chest and back. Dean would try to get away, but Castiel would pin him. Oh god, he knew now what Dean felt like between his legs, even if there were two pairs of jeans separating them. Castiel would see Dean’s green eyes blown wide with lust. See the way he licked his lips looking up at him. “Cas,” he would groan.

Castiel could see himself kneeling between Dean’s legs, one of Dean’s knees up over his shoulder. He pushed a slick finger past the ring of Dean’s ass, holding the other man still with his other hand. But Dean wasn’t fighting now. He was pushing down onto Castiel’s finger, begging Castiel to open him up faster.

Castiel slipped a second finger in and Dean’s head rolled back on a groan. Dean would be so fucking hot like that, all laid back and sweaty from a fight. Castiel could take him slow, a victor’s right. He trailed a hand down his chest and gripped his own hip, imagining it was the other man’s hand. With his right hand he slowly pulled his achingly hard cock, mimicking his motions in his fantasy. Slowly thrusting into Dean, owning him, besting him. “Dean,” he whispered almost reverently. His hips sped up, pistoning into his fist. “Dean,” he said again. “Dean, Dean Dean!” He groaned as his cock spurted cum across the shower, the ribbons landing at his feet and washing down the drain. He leaned his head against the wall. Castiel was so screwed.


	4. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel spends the better part of a week avoiding Dean. He works with Gabriel on Friday, and decides that, as a dominant himself, this might not be such a bad way to bottom. If he was ever going to. Which he's not. Right?

Castiel had no idea what he was doing. Had it really been almost a week since this...urge had come over him? He’d taken to avoiding the office whenever he could. Seeing Dean in front of him, in the flesh, was just too much. Twice he’d had to go into the office, despite all his planning, once for an intake interview, and once to refill his duffel. Dean had come in the first time, and Cas had listened to the man talk all about his exploits, half hard the entire time, just waiting for Dean to leave so he could come out from behind the desk. He was grateful that Dean didn’t show up at all the second day.

It was Friday, and Castiel knew he couldn’t get away with going to the office this time. Dean was scheduled for a sensory play session with Aaron, and who knew what he might want to bring to the party from the supply cupboard. But it would be alright, because Castiel’s sub tonight was relatively low maintenance. At least, from a material standpoint.

Castiel stood outside the client’s door with his duffel bag, light today, and took a deep breath. Today’s job might take every last bit of self control he had. Or, it might just be exactly what he needed. He rang the doorbell. 

No one appeared at the door for several minutes, but Castiel waited calmly. The door swung open to reveal a small man, a few years older than Castiel. His longer dark blonde hair was styled back and away from his face, and he leaned against the door casually with a lollipop cockily sticking out of his mouth. “Heya, Cassie,” he said. His eyes sparkled with mirth even as Castiel resisted rolling his own. “Were you waiting long?”

Castiel glared at the man until he backed inside to let him in. “Gabriel,” he greeted. “I thought we agreed no junk food without permission while I was here.” He flicked the stick of the lollipop for emphasis. 

Gabriel scoffed, delighted. “But Cassie, Dum Dums are a fat free food. They have less than 26 calories. That’s hardly junk.” 

Castiel took the offending candy from Gabriel’s mouth and dropped it to the ground, crushing it with the toe of his shoe. He looked down. “No junk food while I’m here means no junk food while I’m here, Gabriel. Although, if you’d like, you may finish that now.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I have more for later.” 

Castiel smiled as he moved past him confidently. “Good. Clean that up. And I mean in the garbage, Gabriel, in the kitchen, and then come join me in the living room.” Castiel walked away, listening to Gabriel grumbling behind him. Gabriel required a special touch. He enjoyed loopholes. It wasn’t too long ago that Castiel had asked him to clean up another small mess and found the whole thing in his bag when he reached the office.

It was only a few seconds after Castiel sat down that Gabriel came in, leaning against the door, sipping on a glass of violently yellow soda pop. “You know, I heard this stuff lowers sperm count. But I figure, all things considered, I’m pretty safe.” 

Castiel stood and walked slowly over to the other man, gently removing the soda from between his unprotesting fingers. “You may get yourself a bottle of water, if you plan on drinking it. Otherwise, you can sit and wait for me in the living room.” He brought the glass into the kitchen and considered putting it on a high shelf for a moment before setting it on the counter. Teasing was not something he had ever done with Gabriel. Although it was certainly something Gabriel enjoyed doing to Castiel. 

When Castiel returned to the living room, Gabriel was sitting on the backrest of the couch. His feet were up on the seat. “Take your shoes off if you’re going to sit like that,” he said easily. Gabriel kicked his shoes off, one landing at the base of the couch, the other about three feet away. “Is there anything you need to talk about before we get started today?”

“Well, sure, Cassie. Did you know that a teaspoon of semen has between five and twenty five calories? That’s just as bad for me as a lollipop. Probably worse, I’ll bet there’s fat in semen.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I’d hardly consider it ‘junk.’ While it’s no super food, there are numerous vitamins and minerals, not to mention protein. Although you hardly have to worry about adding that to your diet while I’m here, unless you plan to clean your own mess.”

Gabriel frowned and shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t argue with that. But I worry about you, Cassie. I’m not saying you’re a girl or anything, but did you know that female ferrets can die if they don’t have sex for a year. When was the last time you had sex, hmmm?”

“I’m in no danger of dying from lack of sexual activity. Was there something else you needed to discuss, or can we begin in earnest?”

A smug smile lit up Gabriel’s face as he opened his arms wide. “I’m all yours, big boy.”

“Thank you, Gabriel. Would you care to take your clothes off?”

“I’d care to take your clothes off. Damn, I’d love to see that body.”

Castiel smiled indulgently. “Maybe if you’re well behaved today, I’ll take off my shirt for you.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. He already had his shirt pulled over his head, and dropped it behind the couch. He was starting on his zipper. “You’re no fun.”

Laying his hand over Gabriel’s to still them, Castiel waited until the other man met his eyes. “I know you can be good for me, Gabriel. When you want to be, you can be excellent for me.” Gabriel winked lasciviously. “And when you’re in this mood, you can get your ass paddled excellently by me.” Gabriel ignored Castiel’s hands and pulled down his zipper, pushing his pants down around his ankles in one gesture. He stood on the couch and shook his ass in Castiel’s face, earning him a swift open-handed spanking. “I can see you’re in quite the mood tonight. Go get me your box.” 

Castiel despaired over the mess in the other man’s living room. And it wasn’t as though the room was disorganized when he had arrived. Everything was put away neatly, dusted and vacuumed. It was only once Gabriel had begun playing that he allowed himself to become sloppy. Castiel sighed. He could wait, at least for a little while. Gabriel enjoyed the spankings a little too much for Castiel to even consider punishing him for leaving clothes around. Still, there were other tools in his arsenal. 

It took Gabriel far too long to return with the oversized boot box that held the majority of his toy collection. Castiel shook his head when Gabriel entered the living room. “Whatever is not in the box that should be, you may go and bring it here now.” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at Castiel, then turned to leave. “Oh, and Gabriel? Anything inside the box that ought not to be there, you can take that away now, too.”

Gabriel turned on his heel and grabbed the box in a huff. He trudged away, grousing the whole time. “God damned mind reader, that’s what he is. Fucking pain in my ass. And not even in the fun way.” When Gabriel returned he was still plodding along like a petulant child. Castiel finally stood up. Face to face, with almost no personal space between the two men; he seemed to tower over Gabriel. 

“I let the candy and the soda pop go, because we hadn’t officially begun. Although the rule was always ‘when I am here,’ not ‘when we are playing.’ However, I will not allow your use of foul language when that’s something we’ve discussed on numerous occasions. What is the punishment for cursing?”

Gabriel grit his teeth and rolled his eyes, turning to the box to pull out a novelty ball gag wrapped in plastic. The strap was cheap vinyl, and the ball attached was an overly large jawbreaker. “Looks like you get to have your sweets anyway, Gabe. Open up.” Gabriel frowned a little but opened up anyway. “You’re not going to eat this before we’re finished today, are you Gabriel?” he said as he fastened the buckle behind the other man’s head. Gabriel shook his head. “Very good,” he said, cupping Gabriel’s cheek with his hand. “You have one minute to clean up the mess you made on this floor. Clothes folded and piled neatly, shoes either neatly put away in your bedroom or placed nicely out here, somewhere out of the way. And then, we’ll see about the rest of your punishment.” He saw Gabriel shiver in pleasure and smiled.

Gabriel could be a lot of fun. Sure, he required a firm hand, but Castiel knew going into their relationship that he enjoyed testing the limits. And really, Castiel couldn't’ blame him. After all, he liked pushing his own limits too. 

For example, Castiel had never had anything bigger than his own finger up his ass. He fingered other people’s asses all the time, but not his own. He’d enjoyed the feeling immensely, but was not ready to try to give himself a prostate orgasm. 

Dean would though. Dean would hold Castiel firmly by the chin, and stare into his eyes. “This is something we discussed, Castiel. You wanted this. Now, you can safeword out, but if not, we’re going to put this dildo up your ass, and you’re going to ride it until you come, capisce?” Castiel would huff and puff, even as Dean ordered him to turn around and bend over the arm of the couch. 

Gabriel was bent over the arm of the couch. His face was planted firmly in the couch cushion. Castiel took a quick glance around the room to see that his latest orders had been followed. He grabbed the paddle from Gabriel’s toy box. He could hear the other man’s slightly muffled whining to man up and hit him already. “Quiet, Gabriel. You’ll drool candy all over your couch like that.” 

Just like Castiel would drool as Dean pushed a second finger into his ass. He wouldn’t even care if he was making a mess, so needy for something inside him after so long. Maybe Dean would squeeze his ass cheeks in those lightly freckled hands of his, pulling them apart so he could see as Castiel’s hole loosened and tightened, waiting to be filled. And then, Slap!

The paddle landed on Gabriel’s ass, and the man cried out. “Count, Gabriel.” The number one came out garbled around the jawbreaker. Again and again Castiel landed blows over the curve of Gabriel’s ass, the top of his thighs. Barely understandable words came spilling out of Gabriel’s mouth as he counted, until they became moans of pleasure. “Spread your legs.” Gabriel’s dick was high and leaking, but Castiel could barely see it from behind the man. His balls, however, hung low against the rough material. Castiel brought the paddle up sharply between the other man’s legs. Once, twice, three times, and then Gabriel was coming all over his couch. 

Gabriel panted, his chest still against the couch cushion, as Castiel reached down and unhooked the gag. The entire couch, as well as most of Gabriel’s face was sticky with saliva and sugar. “Good boy,” he whispered. 

When Gabriel was able to find the not so sticky end of the couch, sit up and catch his breath, he whistled. “That was a hell of a thing, Cassie boy.”

Castiel smiled. “You’re welcome to your semen, if you’re still in the mood for junk food,” he said, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his client, and gently bumping into his shoulder.

Gabriel laughed. “If you don’t think I’m kicking you out so I can finish that jawbreaker, you’ve got another thing coming.”

⚣⚤⚣

Castiel had experienced these fantasies far too often in the last five days to not have the control to make it home. He made it home just fine before he dropped his pants and positioned himself over the arm of his own couch. The idea of Dean, two, three fingers deep in him had him groaning. He only managed a single finger in his own ass before he heard himself “Is that the best you can fucking do, Winchester?”

The ghost of fingers curled in Castiel’s hair, and he raised his head as if someone’s strong arm were pulling it backwards. “You’ve got a sassy mouth on you, boy,” he could hear the phantom of a deep voice scold from behind him before an imagined dildo was shoved into his open asshole. Cas ground against his fingers. The angle just wasn’t right. He could grab a dildo, he probably had an extra one in his duffel. He could call it shrinkage, or just pay for it. No one would ever known. Dean wouldn’t judge. Christ, if he could just reach his prostate. 

“Damn it, fuck me already!” he groused. The Dean in his imagination pounded him with the dildo. Until it wasn’t a dildo anymore. It was Dean’s own cock stretching Castiel open. God, it had been so long since he had actually had sex with a man, and never as a bottom, but Castiel knew what it looked like. He knew what he would look like, bent over and begging for Dean’s cock in all but the words. The slap of flesh against flesh. Being full. God what it must be like. He took his fingers out of his ass and added more lube before slipping a third finger into his hole.

Resolve broken, Castiel shifted his weight on the couch, freeing his other hand to grasp his cock. His hips stuttered as he rutted into his hand, heat pooling in his belly as he shouted “Dean! Fuck! Fuck me, damn it!”

When Castiel caught his breath, he was still bent over on his couch. Shit. That was going to be a bitch to get out of the cushions.

He cleaned it up the best he could with some paper towels and spot carpet cleaner, then fell asleep in his boxers with his work shirt still on. He’d figure this all out tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was so short. I just needed some lighter filler, and maybe to touch on one or two plot points after last week. Especially because the next chapter is going to get a little darker again. But that's ok, because it's the climax, and it can only go up from there.
> 
> Speaking of the next chapter, I will probably be off my posting schedule next week because I have some family stuff to take care of. But I will be back with chapter 5 on September 1st (shortly after midnight on September 2nd) and the final chapter will, unless things go terribly wrong, be up a week later.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets an unexpected visitor during his lunch, and the conversation does not go well. Later, at his appointment, things quickly devolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of this chapter was heavily inspired by 11.14. Yes, you've seen a lot of it before.
> 
> Warning: Safeword use. Bad headspace.

Castiel woke up in his living room. His back and neck were stiff from sleeping on the couch, and the spot he had cleaned the night before still felt damp under his feet. He sighed. At least he had kept enough presence of mind to sleep with his head at the other end.

He sat up and stretched, feeling his aching muscles burn. His head hurt. He needed coffee and water as soon as possible, and he knew which order he would prefer them.

Standing up, he took in the state of the room. His pants lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. A heel of one shoe stuck out from underneath them. The bottle of carpet spray was knocked over on the floor. He ran a hand over his stubble. His sweaty work shirt clung to him in a way that was decidedly not sexy.

Right. First coffee. Then a quick rinse in the shower, followed by a tall glass of water to rehydrate, then his morning run. And if he was running a little later than normal, well, there was no one to condemn him.

⚣⚤⚣

Castiel finished his morning jog and headed home for a real shower before lunch. Sam had mentioned earlier in the week that he might stop by. He’d even hinted that he might bring Jess and little Mary.

After lunch, Castiel knew he wouldn’t have much free time, although he should probably use some of it to go into the office. It had been days since he had checked if there were messages from potential clients, and it wasn’t alright for him to let Dean take all of the burden of vetting and getting to know new clients. Logically, he knew that. Even if some dark part of him liked the idea of punishing Dean for so completely invading all of Castiel’s thoughts for the week.

He cut his spiraling train of thought short with a sigh. One thing at a time. And it looked like he was going to be having a second icy cold shower this morning.

⚣⚤⚣

Castiel pulled open the glass door to his regular Saturday diner and scanned the patrons for Sam. He wouldn’t be hard to spot; even seated Sam was impressively tall. When he didn’t see him, Castiel allowed the host to show him to a table, explaining that a friend would be joining him. Possibly a few friends.

Claire, a favorite server of his, brought over a glass of water, without Castiel even having to ask for it. “Hey, Mr. Novak,” she said. “The usual today, or do I get to shock the cook?”

He smiled back at her. “The usual will be just fine. You know I enjoy your burgers.”

She grinned. “Yeah, they are pretty good. Don’t tell anyone I said that though. Don’t want the cook getting a big head.”

“Of course not. Your secret’s safe with me.” He watched her head off to the kitchen with his order before letting his mind wander back to the day’s schedule. He really was going to have to go back into the office. Another thing he’d been avoiding this week and been up-selling. Which was fine. There wasn’t really any need to talk people into trying newer and kinkier toys every single time they played together. But it was bad business not to let a client know if he started stocking something they might be interested in. Castiel had crossed that line more than once this week in an attempt to avoid his co-worker.

But what he absolutely could not do was refuse to bring a toy to a client who had specifically requested it. Which was why he absolutely had to go to the office straight after lunch today, awkward moments with his coworker be damned.

A shadow fell over Castiel’s table. He turned and craned his neck up, a smile for his friend tracing his lips.

But it wasn’t long brown hair and puppy-dog eyes that greeted him.

The hair was cropped short, and didn't tower over the table as high as Castiel expected it to. And the glare in the green eyes didn’t belong on any puppy. Not unless it was training to be one hell of a guard dog.

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel held off a gulp long enough that he could disguise it by taking a sip of water. “Hello, Dean. I was expecting Sam. Is he meeting you here?”

Dean stretched his neck, all smug swagger. “Yeah, about that. Sam said he’s sorry, but he can’t make it.”

Castiel was taken aback. “Is your brother alright? And Mary? Jess?”

Some of the stiffness relaxed from Dean’s posture, his eyes softening fractionally. “They’re all fine, Cas. Honestly. But we’re worried about you. You’ve been acting weird lately. Even for you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. It was a habitual gesture, but the familiarity did nothing to relax Castiel. “Look man, I asked him if he could give us some time.” He hesitated for a moment when Castiel did not respond. “Can I sit, or do I have to eat standing up?”

Castiel fought off a shudder at the threat of having to sit through an entire meal with the current object of his arousal, but he wouldn’t be rude. He offered the seat with an “Apologies, please. Sit.” This was one of his best friends, he reminded himself. It would be fine.

Dean slid into the booth and crooked a finger at Claire to get her to come take his order. His smile was easy and flirtatious, even though she had to be a decade or two younger than him. It made Castiel’s stomach roll, but he sat quietly while Dean ordered his own bacon cheeseburger, no substitutions for the cheddar or the fries. And a milkshake. Normally Castiel would tease him about keeping fit. The urge was there, the words on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn’t get them out of his mouth. Dean grinned at Castiel as Claire walked away, but his face fell as his friend stayed silent. “This is what I’m talking about, Cas. What’s up with you? If you’re sick or something, just talk to me, Cas. I can pick up the slack. But it’s like you’re not even there.”

Anger flared up inside Castiel, overcoming the discomfort and anxiety. “Pick up the slack? Are you implying that I don’t carry my weight in this business relationship, Dean?” he asked. Every word sliced through the air, but the word “business” cut especially. “I seem to remember several trips to Vegas when you left me completely alone with your client list for weeks at a time. Weeks, Dean. With no warning whatsoever. How about the use of our business computer to play Angry Birds. Do you need me to go on? Or can we agree that since all my vacations have been planned, and I’ve never left you in a tight spot, you can put on your big boy boxers and do inventory yourself for a week while I focus on myself and my clients?”

Dean sat back, stunned. Then his eyes narrowed and the muscle on the edge of his jaw twitched as he pulled himself forward in his seat, every movement radiating controlled aggression. “Fuck you, Cas.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t yell or scream. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fucking fine. I got no problems covering both ends of the business until you get your head out of your ass.” He stood from the table and reached into his wallet, throwing some uncounted bills on the table. “Hell, I’ll even cover your lunch.” Dean stormed out, the glass door of the diner slamming in his wake.

Castiel watched him leave, the anger hard in his eyes. How dare Dean think he couldn’t handle his job? Of all things? He turned around to face the table, only to find Claire standing there with Dean’s milkshake. “He won’t be back,” he said gruffly. “You might as well drink it yourself. He paid for it.”

Claire shrugged. “Nah. He was being a creep. I asked the cook to spit in it.” Castiel returned her smile, but he didn’t feel any happier.

⚣⚤⚣

Out of all his clients, Mr. Crowley was the only one who had anything resembling a dungeon.

Oh, it wasn’t anything like a *real* dungeon. And neither of them called it a dungeon. But in Castiel’s head, it was a dungeon.

In reality, it was just an unfinished basement. The walls were some sort of cinder block, with no insulation. Beams crisscrossed the ceiling. Small copper pipes and large insulated ducts ran underneath and between them. Wood support beams studded the floor at regular intervals. Some areas were harshly lit with naked light bulbs, but they were sparsely placed and left other areas to taper off into shadow. A furnace stood alone on the back wall of the house. 

Mr. Crowley hadn’t invested much in the way of furniture downstairs, although from what Castiel had seen in the upstairs, he had plenty of money if he chose to do so. There was a large, vinyl cushioned high-back chair, and a Saint Andrew’s cross, both done in dark chocolate brown. There was a cage large enough to fit a man on his knees, and there was a bucket. An area cordoned off with yellowing white curtains hid something off to one side.

In this basement, Castiel always wore his brown trench coat over his suit. His client rarely stayed naked for long, either, although that had less to do with the cold. Mr. Crowley followed Castiel down the stairs, carrying the heavy duffel. They had done a cursory check-in upstairs when he arrived, but now it was all business.

Castiel strode to the curtained off area. “Leave the bag at the bottom of the stairs and strip,” he said, pushing the curtains to one side. There were so many choices inside. Racks of clothes, ranging from dresses to loud print ties. Leather harnesses and a vinyl gimp suit. He turned his head to look over the now naked man, considering. He could see the twitch in Crowley’s arms as he aborted the movement to cover himself. “Cold, pet?” He could feel his face animate in disdain. 

“Yes, Master,” he was clearly hedging. Cas pulled out a bright blue shirt with a white floral pattern, just to watch Crowley grimace. It wasn’t the worst thing he could have come up with in the array, but it was certainly out of the high-powered businessman’s comfort zone. 

He held the shirt out to the naked man, who took a step to retrieve it, one hand holding his other arm. “Uh uh uh,” Castiel tsked. “Funny, I don’t remember telling you to stand. Pets don’t walk on two legs. On your knees. Bring the bag.” Crowley begrudgingly got down to his knees and crawled to get the shirt, squirming awkwardly with his hands busy holding the duffel.

Seeing Crowley on his knees sent a thrill up Castiel’s spine. This right here was why he did the job. He was dominant. He was *a* dominant. He was cool, and in control. Everyone could see that. Everyone except Dean. If Dean was here, Castiel was certain he could show him just how much control he had. Oh, just like Crowley, Dean thought he was tough. He thought he could make Castiel so angry, pushing him for information. Saying he cared in one breath and then accusing him of being lazy and undedicated to his subs in the next. But Castiel could show how in control he was.

The foot and a half long curved pieces of wood were dark and smooth under his hand. Crowley groaned when he saw Castiel fondling the humbler. “No complaints,” he said, caressing the other man’s face, seeking pleasure in the discomfort in his eyes. “I’d hate to have to gag you, too. I have such plans for that mouth of yours.” He watched Crowley’s half hard cock fill with blood. “But you knew better than to try to walk without permission. So we’ll just have to see to it that you can’t stand up.”

Coming around behind Crowley, he kicked the other man’s legs apart. “Chest to the floor,” he told him. Castiel reached between Crowley’s legs and grabbed his balls, pulling them back. He lined up the the notch in the wood where the skin was stretched taut, and sandwiched his scrotum between the two pieces before screwing them back in place. The pull would assure that Crowley would not be able to straighten to standing without considerable pain. “Put your shirt on,” he said, dropping it on the floor in front of the prostrate man. He smiled without humor as he watched the man struggle to dress himself without straightening his body or standing up.

Part of Castiel wanted to see Crowley try to stand up, to see him brought up short. But it was enough to have him unable to stand completely. Even if he tried to stand he would have to remain in an awkward bow. And wouldn’t that be fun to play with later? If only he could get Dean in that position. Make him eat his words, make the other man lick his boots until he was begging for forgiveness.

Oh, but he had something to do first. Something Crowley had even asked for. Castiel reached into his bag and pulled out a thick metal dog collar, complete with several inch long spikes. He watched the desire and disgust war in Crowley’s eyes as Castiel displayed the item, and the thick padlock that would keep it secure around Crowley’s neck. With a passing glance at his current pet, Castiel crossed the room to the chair. He sprawled out in the monstrosity languorously. “Here boy,” he said, patting his lap. “Come to Master.”

Crowley crawled over, blushing and grimacing. But his weeping erect cock told a different story than his face. Castiel reached down and caressed Crowley’s face. He tried to pull away, but Castiel held his chin firm. “Oh, you want this pet, because that’s what you are. My pet.” He separated the ends of the collar to bring it around Crowley’s neck and locked it in place. “Tell me how much you love being my pet.”

Crowley mumbled, and Castiel kicked him, gently, in the chest. “I said, how much do you love being my pet?”

“I love being your pet, Master. Thank you, Master.” The words were angry and disgusted. Like Dean’s words had been earlier that day. Castiel felt himself grow hard at the idea of Dean kneeling beneath him as he sat on a leather throne. 

“Lick my shoes,” he would order. Tentative licks and plaintive whines would be the start, but Castiel would grab the head in front of him and shove it down, until the toe of his shoe was hanging in the other man’s mouth, gagging him, holding his mouth open. It wouldn’t matter if he tried to scream, tried to get away. Castiel would hold him there by his hair, seeing the lustful look in the other man’s eyes as he squirmed and fought on the floor. 

Dean. And his blatant disrespect, saying Castiel wasn’t doing his job. Dean and his lies and deceptions, letting Castiel believe he would have a nice lunch with his friend, and changing plans without telling him. Castiel clipped the leash onto the other man’s collar and attached the other end to an eye hook on the chair. He brought over seven water bottles and forced the man to chug them all. “You aren’t going to drink the milkshake you paid for? Drink that. Drink every last drop, do you understand. Every last drop. I haven’t got all day.” When the other man was finished, Castiel pushed him down further and used him as a foot rest. Every time the other man tried to speak, Castiel would strike him.

It wasn’t the other man’s turn to speak. Castiel had heard all the words he intended to hear for the day. The other man knew he wasn’t meant to talk. 

And Castiel brooded. Damn Dean Winchester and his insufferable patronizing. Damn him and his freckles, too. And his perfect ass. The man under Castiel’s feet squirmed. His dick was no longer hard and full. “Please,” he was begging. “Please, Master.” Castiel practically dragged him to the bucket across the room, allowing the man to relieve himself. He debased himself even further, kissing Castiel’s shoes, but Castiel was not moved. 

“You look thirsty, pet. Drink.” He kicked the bucket full of piss gently with his toe. The man below him grew hard again. Castiel grabbed him by the back of the head and pushed his face into the bucket. “Lick it all up,” he said. The other man squirmed and moaned beneath him, but his cock was heavy and leaking cum. He looked so right there. No one could tell Castiel what to do. Castiel could do anything he damn well pleased. Including sticking a hand down his pants and jerking off while he made another man drink his own piss. “Jerk off while you drink,” he told the man, who was barely protesting below him. 

Castiel continued to pull on his cock while the other man drank more than his fill and came, moaning. Castiel came a few pulls later. “Fuck yeah. Drink that piss, Dean!”

The man, no, Crowley, stilled beneath him. Castiel removed is hand. “Oh god, Mr. Crowley. Red.” He pulled the other man’s head out of the bucket as gently as possible. “Red, I’m so sorry, my god. Red.” Castiel knelt on the floor next to Mr. Crowley, his hand slid in cum, but he didn’t notice. He grabbed for the key and immediately unlocked the sharp collar, poking himself on the spikes in his haste. “I am so sorry, that was so unprofessional. I can not tell you how embarrassed I am.” He couldn’t look Crowley in the eye, and instead went to the stairs to retrieve his clothes. “Please, let me make it up to you, Mr. Crowley. Of course this session is free, and you’ll receive half off of your next session. For now, what can I do?”

Crowley chuckled darkly as he got to his feet. “Are you kidding? Now that was something I haven’t experienced before.” Castiel could feel him trying to meet eyes, but he couldn’t look. “It’s one thing to be degraded, but another to be forgotten so completely that you forget who I am. I would have preferred it if we had negotiated first.”

“Of course, Mr. Crowley, it won’t happen again, I can assure you.”

Slipping his pants on, Crowley gave Castiel a once over. He was sure he must look a complete mess, the wet spot growing on his pants, the flush in his cheeks. His hair must be all over the place, too. “I have confidence in you and your performance, Mr. Novak. Perhaps we could even revisit this kink at a later time. But for now, I think you've overstayed your welcome.”

Castiel nodded and climbed up the stairs.

⚣⚤⚣

It was several hours later when he got to his car. He tried taking several deep breaths but nothing calmed him down. He sent an email to tomorrow’s client, a woman named Hael to whom he often played the caregiver to her little girl. This had happened with someone who was expecting, wanting to be humiliated. Well, it certainly worked. But what damage could Castiel do to a woman who wanted to be treasured like a princess and a child, when all he felt was anger and disgust. And he wasn’t sure who those emotions were directed to any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of his state of mind, Castiel would have broken no matter which kink he was engaging in this particular Saturday. This chapter is in *no way* meant as a condemnation of those who enjoy consensual degradation and humiliation. It was chosen because it fit the narrative I was trying to tell in this chapter, however when all parties are in the correct state of mind, it can be a rewarding experience, unlike this chapter's outcome.
> 
> On a less dark note, I would like to add that Castiel was surprised to find Dean at the diner because I was too. I had an entirely different scene planned, but Dean was tired of his friend acting shifty and took over the story accordingly.
> 
> One more chapter to go! Thanks for joining me on this ride.


	6. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel tries to cope with the events of the day before. Still concerned, Dean comes to check up on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still unbeta'd. Even by me. If you see an issue, let me know and I'll fix it.
> 
> If you see an issue with the storytelling, let me know. I may not fix that though, because I'm lazy.

_You were correct, Dean. I was not well. I believe it is of some import that I take some time off. Do not worry about informing my clients, I’ve already made arrangements to contact them when I am ready to begin working again. I apologize for the inconvenience._

Castiel was huddled on his couch, still in his suit. The tie had gotten lost somewhere between Mr. Crowley’s and here. Maybe it was in the car? Castiel’s finger hovered over the “Send” button. He had deleted and rewritten the message several times over the last twenty minutes. He glanced at the clock at the top of the screen. 2AM was probably still too early to text Dean. Letting his phone fall to his lap without hitting the button, Castiel put his face in his hands. He rubbed them over his scruff but they did nothing for his increasing headache, or the rolling of his stomach. For the second time in a week, Castiel curled up on his couch and tried to fall asleep, disregarding how wrinkled his suit jacket would be in the morning.

⚣⚤⚣

The bright sunlight streaming through the window blinds hit Castiel’s stubbled face, casting harsh lines across his features. He grimaced as the light landed across his eyes. With a grumble, Castiel blinked into the light and sat up. A puddle of drool darkened the arm of the couch where he had laid his head, and he wiped what he could from his face with uncoordinated, splayed fingers.

After a minute’s half-hearted search of the couch, he found the phone where it had fallen on the floor. Half glazed eyes checked the time. It took a minute to process what 9:48 meant. With a sigh he opened his text app and sent the message he had agonized over earlier that morning. Much earlier. He groaned.

Up and ambling, Castiel made it to the bathroom to relieve himself, then dragged himself to the kitchen where he could make some coffee. Black. He went through the motions mechanically. He grabbed a banana and carried that and the coffee out to living room where he turned on the TV and found something mind-numbing to watch on Netflix. Whatever he needed to do, he could figure it out. Tomorrow.

⚣⚤⚣

Just after 7PM, Castiel’s doorbell rang. He looked up from the television and took in the room around him. He was half lying, half sitting on the couch watching a stream of USA Network programming on Netflix. He was still wearing yesterday’s suit pants, although he’d at some point discarded the jacket and button-down, leaving only his undershirt. The jacket had kind of been hung neatly on the back corner of the couch. The shirt hadn’t managed as well. Castiel may have used it as a pillow during one of the day’s naps. His coffee cup, which he had refilled as both lunch and dinner, sat empty on the end table, a brown ring staining the ceramic. He looked around, wondering if the garbage from the morning’s breakfast had made it to the trash can in the kitchen. He didn’t see it, so he leaned back and let the show wash over his brain.

Until the loud, insistent knocking started at his door. Right. Someone had rung his doorbell. They probably still wanted him. Using the remote, he stopped the video stream, then went to the door. Wiping his hand over his face, he answered the banging. 

Dean Winchester stood in the doorway. Despite his go-to casual outfit of jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved work shirt, he still looked far more put together than Castiel in his day-old office attire. “Cas! You okay, man?” Castiel couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. He shrugged his hunched shoulders and moved aside to let Dean into the apartment.

Castiel could feel Dean’s eyes on his wrinkled clothes and unkempt appearance; feel the judgment as the taller man’s gaze took in the room Castiel hadn’t left all day. “You hungry? I made some chicken soup the other day. Mom’s own recipe, figured I’d stop by with the leftovers after I finished up with work.” He proffered the white plastic grocery bag he had been carrying. Castiel shook his head, no. When Dean’s eyes narrowed, Castiel braced himself for another lecture. He deserved it. After everything, his inappropriate fantasies about Dean, the way he had treated a client, Castiel deserved so much worse than a lecture. “Jesus, Cas.” Castiel stared at the ground and waited for the worst of it to come. “You really are sick, aren’t you? What’s wrong?”

When blue eyes finally met green, there was no judgment or anger to be found. Shame flared up inside Castiel, stronger for the sympathy he saw from his friend. He had to sit down. Dean knelt next to him on the floor; it was weird to see Dean a few inches below him. “Cas, you’ve got to talk to me. Have you seen a doctor?” 

“No doctor.” Castiel shook his head again. He huffed a humorless laugh. “Maybe a psychologist.” Dean looked at him questioningly, but Castiel just stared past him at the suspended television images for a moment. “I made a grave error, Dean. I lost control of a scene.”

“Shit, Cas. Did you get hurt?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” he glanced at Dean before returning to the static screen, “neither is the client.”

Dean nodded. “I know it must have been rough, Cas. But I know you. You stopped when he gave the safeword. You stopped before it went too far.” Castiel couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He just shook his head. “Shit,” Dean breathed. 

“I was angry. I’d been angry for days. I know I shouldn’t have let it get to me, but I seem to have taken my frustration out on my client. I caught myself. I called the scene off.”

Dean was nodding when Castiel glanced back at him. “Hey, man. That sucks. But you didn’t lose it completely. If you had, you never would have called it off at all. You did good.” Castiel recognized the tone of voice as one Dean used when someone was acting skittish. Part of him resented it, but a bigger part figured he deserved it. He scrubbed at his face. “I’m serious, man. No one is perfect all the time.”

Castiel finally leveled his gaze on Dean, almost unblinking. “I have a dominant personality. I am a dominant for a living. Perfection isn’t required. Self control is.”

For several long seconds, Dean didn’t answer, staring back at Castiel, his mouth slightly open. Castiel stared back, not daring to break the moment. “Damn it, Cas,” he said quietly. “You think Sammy is a perfect lawyer all the time? You think Jess didn’t forget all her nursing training when Mary got her first cold?” There was a hint of smile on Dean’s lips, but mostly just concern. “Cas. It’s not like that. People aren’t just their jobs. And everyone has off days.” He pulled himself up onto the couch next to Castiel. When Castiel didn’t pull away, Dean took deep breath. “I get it if you need to take some time off. Just…you’re good at what you do. People will miss you. Come back when you can.” He stood up and seemed to notice the plastic bag still around his wrist, the heavy thermos still inside. He put the bag on the end table and walked away. “Call me if you need anything, Cas,” he said, hand on the doorknob. “I mean it. Anything. Or Sam. You’re family. Just say the word.”

“Wait.”

Dean closed the door softly. “Cas?”

“Dean.” Castiel couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. “Will you sit?” Dean took his place back on the couch, his posture open, but Castiel, even nervous as he was, could read the tension in it. “I think I need to get something off my chest, if I’m going to continue working with you.” His hands fluttered gently in his lap as he spoke. “I understand if you decide not to continue our partnership, or our friendship because of this. I…I don’t know what else I would do, but I would never make you leave your business.” Castiel looked down. With great effort, he forcibly held his hands still.

“Cas, man. You’re talking a little crazy.” Castiel could hear the worry in his friend’s voice. He saw the hand that reached for his own, only to stop short and return to the seat cushion. 

“I lost control because, I believe, I was angry with myself.” Dean started speaking, but Castiel looked up at him, and the intensity of his glare was enough to cut Dean short. “I was angry with myself for lusting after you.” There was an edge in his voice that was similar to the timbre it took on during power play, but a faint underlying desperation marred the tone. “After yesterday, I decided it would be easier to be mad at you. I took my anger at you out on a client.” Castiel turned away and stared at the floor.

“You… Cas?” Strong fingers rubbed against Castiel’s shoulder blades. He wanted to flinch away, but at the same time, he wanted to soak in whatever little time he had left before Dean stormed away. “I didn’t know you felt that way. We’ve known each other for years, Cas. You never dated. I just thought you weren’t interested.”

Castiel pulled away at the hope and wonder in Dean’s voice. “I wasn’t, Dean. I’m not. I value your friendship very much. If there was someone I might consider…that sort of a relationship with, it could be you. But I don’t think I was made for that.” He searched Dean’s face, waiting for whatever reaction the other man might give.

“So it was really just sex?” Dean whispered. Castiel nodded, ashamed. “Hey, stop that,” he said, pulling Castiel’s head up so they were talking face to face again.

“I would never follow through on it, Dean, I need you to know that.”

It was Dean’s turn to nod. “I know that, Cas.” They sat in silence, neither looking at the other except in stolen glances, never at the same time.

“Cas…” Dean started. “I think there’s something we can do about all this.” Castiel cocked his head to one side. “Sleep with me.” Castiel looked shocked, shaking his head. “I’m serious. It’s not that big a deal. Not much more than we do with clients every day. And we’re already good friends. If it helps you… Let me do this for you, Cas.”

Castiel watched Dean’s eyes for any sign of discomfort, anger, or judgment. Finding none, he nodded, and watched a smile blossom on Dean’s face. “One condition.”

“Name it.”

“Just this once, I don’t want to be in charge. I’m not ready.”

Dean sat for a moment thinking, and Castiel waited nervously. Then Dean’s mouth twisted into a cocky smirk. “I think that can be arranged.”

Dean stood and drew himself up to his full height, letting himself tower over Castiel. Castiel hung his head, unwilling to look at Dean without a permisison. “What are your safewords, Cas?” he asked.

“Stoplight. Green for go, yellow slow down, red for stop.” 

With confident movements, Dean grabbed Castiel’s chin and directed his gaze upward. “Thank you. I think the first thing we need to do is get you cleaned, don’t you?” Castiel may have nodded, he wasn’t sure. All he was sure of was that Dean’s green eyes looked positively sinful. He knew they hadn’t negotiated anything, but he trusted Dean knew him well enough not to cross any lines. More importantly, he trusted Dean to stop if he asked. “Go to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I’ll be right there, sweetheart.” Castiel bristled at the pet name. “Not sweetheart, then. Fair enough. But go on before I have to think of a punishment for you.”

Castiel hurried to the bathroom. Quickly he divested himself of his undershirt. His pants and boxers soon followed. Soon, the water was running, nice and warm, and then there was nothing but time. Dean must be so disgusted by Castiel. He needed Cas to wash before he was willing to touch. And it was no wonder, Castiel had been slovenly. God, there might be piss splashed on the pants from his scene with Crowley. He didn’t even know. But Dean had probably smelled it.

On a positive note, that meant there was no mistaking this for a dream. Never in Castiel’s wildest fantasies over the past week had he imagined himself so brought down in the eyes of his best friend. Dean would probably help him shower, get cleaned up. Maybe he’d get a hand job out of pity, then they’d never speak of this night again. Dean might never look him in the eyes again. But maybe he’d get over it, eventually. Maybe, after all this, they could be friends again.

Strong hands on his shoulders interrupted Castiel’s thought process. He jumped at the touch. “Where did you go?” the deep voice behind him inquired.

“I don’t know if we should do this, Dean,” Castiel sad sadly.

Dean bent down slightly to be face to face with a barefoot Castiel. “Do you want to do this?”

“Right now? Of course.” He sighed. “But not at the expense of our friendship.”

“Castiel.” The sound of his full name in Dean’s voice was somehow like the shock of cold water and the caress of a favorite blanket at the same time. “I want this, too.” Castiel’s eyes grew wide. “Is that a yes?” Castiel nodded. “I know you know better than that,” Dean chuckled. “I need words, Cas. Enthusiastic verbal consent.”

“Yes, Dean!” Castiel’s voice formed the words louder than he meant to. “Yes,” he said again, more quietly. He tentatively moved forward to kiss Dean, aware that Dean could revoke consent, or punish him for not asking for permission. But Dean allowed the kiss. The first touch of their lips was like nothing he had imagined. No fire, no sparks. There was still heat, but it was like a sauna. A slow, all encompassing burn that heals instead of damages. Dean’s lips were soft. But Castiel didn’t really have much to compare them to. He certainly didn’t kiss his clients, and the last time he had kissed a partner had been ages ago. He was too old for one night stands, and he meant what he had said about not being interested in anything long-term. 

Long arms drew him further into the kiss, trailing up his naked back, but only for a moment. Dean gently but firmly forced Castiel to step back, breathing deeply. “I should make a confession, too.” Castiel watched his face, waiting, hanging on Dean’s words. “I’ve wanted that too.” Castiel blushed, and Dean smiled and ran a hand over his cheek. “Go on, get in the shower before it gets cold.” 

Castiel stepped into the shower, letting the water cascade down his back. He turned and watched Dean strip his tshirt over his head. It wasn’t that Dean was showing off. Castiel had seen him showing off, stripping his shirt off for laughs with those he figured he had no chance with, or with intention when there was a girl or a guy that caught his eye and he thought he could get away with it. But this was different. He was just getting undressed. It was no less hot for it’s simplicity. It felt right. Dean caught Castiel looking and smirked. The pants became a strip tease. Moving ever so slowly, one leg than the other. Castiel wanted to roll his eyes. Make a joke. It’s what he would have done last year. Last month. Last week. But not now. Having all that directed at him was heady. All he wanted to do was reach out and touch.

As if reading his mind, but more likely just reading his body language, Dean grasped Castiel’s hand and pulled it up against his nipple. “Is this what you wanted, Castiel?” he asked, his deep voice traveling pleasantly all through Castiel’s body. 

He nodded. “Yes, Dean.”

Dean gently maneuvered Castiel in the shower until he was able to stand behind him. He pulled the shower-head from the wall and started to rinse Castiel’s hair, then grabbed the woody shampoo and poured a little into his cupped hand before massaging it into Castiel’s scalp. Dean paused for a moment when Castiel moaned and leaned back into him, but eventually finished washing his hair. “Close your eyes and tilt your head back, Cas,” he said, so quietly it could barely be heard above the water. Relaxed and pliant, Castiel did as he was told. The shampoo sluiced down his back while Dean carefully directed the water away from his eyes. 

Dean seemed to pause after putting returning the shower-head. After a moment of standing with his back to the water, he made up his mind. He grabbed one of the washcloths hanging from the top of the shower curtain and the bar of soap, and slowly washed Castiel’s body. He took extra care with Castiel’s cock, hard and straining. He even kissed the tip, but made no move to get him off. Castiel whined and rutted into Dean’s hand. Dean ignored him and continued his steady washing, then turned Castiel out of the shower. “The water is going to get cold, and I want to get clean too. I brought you some sweats. Put them on and you can clean up the living room while I finish up.” Castiel slid the pants on, unfulfilled. “Don’t pout, Cas.” He was not pouting. He turned to go clean up his mess. “I’ve waited for this for a while, Cas. I’m going to do it right, or not at all.” Castiel looked at Dean then. Saw the lust in his eyes, his cock half hard without any friction. He smiled, and went to do as he was told.

Not ten minutes later, Castiel was sitting in his newly cleaned living room, listening to the water turn off. He wanted to do it right, too. He pulled one of the cushions off the couch and knelt down, waiting for Dean. When Dean appeared in the doorway, Castiel felt his mouth hanging open in appreciation. He was still naked, rubbing his hair vigorously with one of Castiel’s towels. “I didn’t bring another outfit,” he said, half apologetically. It was then he noticed Castiel on his knees. “Christ!” he breathed. A few long strides and he was in front of Cas, threading his fingers through the other man’s wet hair. “You gotta tell me what you want, Cas. That’s how this works.”

Castiel shook his head, before he found his voice. “No. I’m not a client, Dean. I don’t just want you to fulfill my fantasies. I want you.” 

Dean groaned. “Shit, Cas.” He pulled Castiel’s head in close to his thigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. You gotta tell me if I cross a line though, okay?”

“Of course, Dean.” And just like that, Dean stood up a little straighter.

“Crawl to your bed. Color?”

Castiel gulped. “Green. Sir.” He moved forward onto his hands. Crawling was awkward. It should have been demeaning, but it felt amazingly empowering. He knew Dean’s eyes were on his muscles. On his presented ass. He shivered in anticipation as he passed through the bedroom door and knelt beside the bed. 

“Good boy,” Dean praised from the doorway. He sauntered in, dropping his towel on the floor. For a second, Castiel froze, afraid that Dean would want him to lick it or kneel on it all wrinkled. But Dean just walked up to him. “Up on the bed, on your back. I’ve got the chance to see you, finally. I ain’t gonna waste it.” Castiel complied, arranging himself on the bed. For a moment, he forgot that his life was literally people paying him, in part, because he looked good. He hoped that Dean found him attractive. Dean smiled as he approached the bed. He traced Castiel’s pectorals with his hands, then dipped down to lave at them with his tongue. Castiel gasped and arched off the bed. “Shhh,” he comforted, although it did little good as he licked a thick stripe over Castiel’s other nipple. Dean ignored Castiel’s whimper. He pulled Castiel’s hand from the side of his body and licked his fingers slowly, one at a time. “Play with it,” he demanded, placing Castiel’s own fingers on his nipple. Castiel started to twist and pull, his hips shifting up, looking for friction. Dean watched, his eyes dark with lust, as he licked and sucked the fingers of Castiel’s other hand before directing it to it’s own nipple. 

Castiel watched Dean move to the foot of the bed, still playing with his nipples. Strong fingers dug into his feet, and his fingers stopped as he instinctively tried to pull away. “I told you to play, Cas,” Dean reminded him, as his hands deeply massaged Castiel’s feet. It was…uncomfortable, but not unpleasant. Castiel’s hips started to squirm on the bed as he focused on the twin sensations of the sharp pain in his nipples from continued stimulation and the deep pain in his feet, which slowly moved up his legs and Dean changed positions. Castiel wasn’t sure, but the bottoms of his feet might be bruised in the morning. He might have the reminder of his night with Dean, that this was real, with every step he took. He groaned and bucked his hips up. 

Dean, already to Castiel’s thighs with his massage, reached out and held Castiel’s hips down. “You are beautiful. God, Cas. I love watching you squirm, but I need you to try to stay still for me, got it?”

Castiel nodded. He had self control. He could do this. Dean was in charge, and he just had to listen. “Good boy. Try to stay still.” It proved almost impossible as Dean climbed over top of Castiel, ghosting his half hard cock over Castiel’s erection. He dipped down and caught Castiel’s mouth in a kiss. The supine man licked greedily into his mouth. 

“Need this, Dean. Need you. Need more.” Dean chuckled, taking one hand, then the other away from Castiel’s nipples, but holding himself away. Castiel whined at the loss of contact. 

“Tell me your color.”

“Green. I’m so green, Dean.” 

Dean leaned down and whispered in Castiel’s ear, still keeping them from touching. His breath tickled Castiel’s ear and neck. “I’m going to ride you so slow, Cas. Hold you down, make you take it. Then, when you think you’re going to explode, I’m going to give you the ride of your fucking life. Yeah?”

“Yes, Dean! Yes!” 

“You have lube?” Castiel scrambled to get up, and Dean laughed as he pushed him back down. “Just tell me, Cas.” The dom persona slipped, just for a moment, and Cas smiled with him.

“Nightstand.” There eyes locked. They lay there, tiny content smiles on their faces. Dean made no move to get the lube. He made no move at all. 

“Touch yourself,” Dean whispered. “Don’t come. Just stay hard for me.” Castiel’s hand grabbed his cock, but Dean caught him by the wrist. “Gently,” he admonished, drawing Castiel’s fingers open slightly with his other hand. Slowly, he guided Castiel’s hand until he had a slow, teasing rhythm. Castiel whined. A combination of pleasure and protest. He watched Dean swing his leg over him and open the drawer for the lube. Neither man noticed that in his haste to open himself up, Dean left the drawer ajar.

Castiel heard the click of the lid, and the slightly obscene sound of the oily liquid being poured over Dean’s hand. His hips bucked again. “Hurry, Dean,” he said.

Dean just shook his head. He was facing Castiel, bent over the bed with his ass in the air. Castiel could just about see the top of his ass from one side as he lay on the bed. No matter how hard he begged, Dean wouldn’t allow him to see his ass. But Cas could imagine Dean’s finger pumping in and out of his hole. He could imagine the way his hole would flutter, minutely, when he took out his finger to add more lube and then pushed in two. 

Every minute felt like an eternity as Cas stared into Dean’s eyes while Dean opened himself up. And then, hours later, seconds later, Castiel wasn’t sure, Dean was shifting again, climbing on top of Castiel. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from Dean’s face, not even when he felt Dean’s hand batting his own away. With his drier hand, Dean guided Castiel’s hands, one at a time, up over his head. “Keep them there for me.”

“Only if you kiss me,” Castiel breathed.

Dean huffed a small laugh. “God you’re bossy,” he said, kissing Castiel anyway. “You’d think you were the dom in another life.” Castiel smiled.

Dean used his other hand to slick up Castiel’s thick cock, and held it steady as he sank down. 

It took everything Castiel had not to buck up into Dean’s warm, tight hole. Dean grabbed his hips as he adjusted, leaving oily finger marks splayed on Castiel’s skin. Slowly, he moved just enough to lean over Castiel and kiss him again. 

With agonizing slowness, Dean sat back up. His hands on Castiel’s hips were a reminder to keep still. He could have tried to buck him off. Maybe he could have even succeeded, but that wasn’t what he wanted now. He let Dean take charge, even though it was painfully slow. Dean inched up until just the tip of Castiel’s cock was inside, then moved back down even slower. Every few repetitions he would lean down and kiss Castiel thoroughly. Castiel’s head thrashed from side to side. Despite how he tried to stay still for Dean, be good for Dean, his hips shifted underneath him. Castiel mewled and begged, and still Dean tortured him. “What color, Castiel?”

“Green. Still green, but please, Dean. Just fuck me already.”

Dean smirked and shifted his hands to Castiel’s shoulders, freeing his hips. “You have a dirty fucking mouth, Cas.” 

And then they were truly fucking. Dean worked himself hard, riding Castiel for all he was worth. A sheen of sweat appeared across his forehead and shoulders, and Castiel leaned up to try to lick it off. He was pushed back down by gentle hands. “Come on, Cas. Need to feel you come.” Dean grabbed the lube from where it lay half forgotten and the bed and poured some more into his hand before grasping his cock. He began fucking up into his hand and down onto Castiel’s cock. “Come on, Cas,” he grunted. “Come on. Come for me.”

Castiel couldn’t continue to keep his hips still, but even the glorious friction still wasn’t enough. His hands reached out, his left grasping Dean’s left shoulder. It felt like a shock passed through both men on the contact, and then Dean was coming in thick white stripes across Castiel’s chest, face, and hair, his hole clenching tight around Castiel’s cock. The extra stimulation brought Castiel over the edge after another dozen reckless thrusts. 

It took a moment for both of them to catch their breath. Dean stayed on top of Castiel until his cock was too soft to stay in his hole. He lazily rubbed his come into Castiel’s skin. “That was fucking hot,” he said.

“God, yes,” Castiel agreed.

“As good as you imagined it?”

“Better,” Castiel said sincerely. Dean rolled off and curled up beside Castiel on the bed, one arm draped over his waist. They relaxed in a comfortable silence, drifting in and out of light slumber.

Castiel wasn’t sure how he felt. Light, maybe. Relieved, certainly. Dean’s fingers were tracing delicate circles on his hip. It was odd, but not unpleasant. He could hear Dean’s pleased humming. It kind of reminded him of the contented purr of a cat, and he laughed gently.

“What’s so funny, Cas?”

“You seem happy.” Unsure what to do with his hands, Castiel settled for gently patting Dean’s wrist.

Dean shifted and sat up. “I think I am,” he said. He sounded a little surprised, but Castiel let that go. “Do you think…”

Castiel cocked his head to one side. “What?”

“All this,” he indicated the two of them, “do you think it helped anything?”

Castiel thought about it for a moment. He didn’t even realize that he was gently rubbing Dean’s wrist with his palm. “I think it might have.”

Dean relaxed back onto the bed, letting his head fall on Castiel’s chest like a pillow. “We should probably keep doing it to be sure,” he murmured. 

Castiel tried to sit up, forcing Dean to move again. “You would want that? Even if…”

“Even if you don’t do the whole relationship thing?” Castiel nodded. “Can we do this after every time?” Castiel nodded again, more slowly this time. “Then yes. If you can give me that, I can give you this.”

Castiel pulled Dean closer, and on impulse kissed him on the forehead. The smile Dean shot him was one of the most beautiful Castiel had ever seen on his friend. He could do this. They could do this. It might take some negotiation, but that had always been part of his job description. And Cas was nothing if not good at his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone who has been reading along!
> 
> Thank you so much everyone who decided to give it a shot once it was finished!
> 
> There were a *lot* of challenges for me with this fic. I have never written smut before. I think, if I'm going to keep it up at all, I need a lot of practice. I've never written more than 1200 words from Castiel's POV before. I've never written from a dominant POV before. I'm not sure how well I've met any of those challenges, but I believe I've at least improved from where I was six weeks ago, and I hope you all have enjoyed my efforts.
> 
> Comments are my joy in life.
> 
> Also, I've made this into a series. I have a few ideas I want to explore, either as timestamps or a similar length multi-chapter fic from Dean's POV. I feel like there are still some challenges in whatever this is. But the next part will probably be a few months coming while I iron out my DeanCas Pinefest fic.


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